


The Most Wonderful Time of the Year (2011)

by JennyB



Series: Advent 2011 [17]
Category: Trinity Blood
Genre: Advent Challenge 2011, Gen, Introspection, Podfic Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-17
Updated: 2011-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-05 20:42:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennyB/pseuds/JennyB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abel Nightroad Dictionary: Christmas. (n). Compound word. Christ = Holiday namesake. Mas = Derived from Spanish, short for 'Mass Quantities'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Most Wonderful Time of the Year (2011)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Advent Challenge 2011. Prompt: 'Christmas means lots of food'.
> 
> Podfic (by the lovely Kansouame ♥♥) here: [Take a Listen!](http://www.mediafire.com/?c3tjq5b81adzzx0)

Christmas was Father Abel Nightroad's favourite time of year. He liked the secular aspects and seeing the houses decorated with twinkling lights. He loved the music that played during mass, and out on the streets. But the part he adored most of all, the part that made him most glad to be a man of the cloth, was the Christmas feast held on Christmas day in the Vatican.

It was officially hosted by Pope Alessandro, but Cardinal Caterina and Cardinal Francesco used it as a way of thanking their respective staff for all their hard work over the past year. The two senior cardinals held both their tongues and their contempt for each other - if only barely - out of respect for the birth of their Lord and Saviour, and because it was the one thing their younger brother, the pope, asked for every Christmas. Even between the two organizations, AX and the Department of Inquisition, there was still some degree of animosity, but everyone managed to put aside their petty rivalries and their differences for that one night so that they could all enjoy themselves. Every year, Abel often wondered why, if they could get along for the feast, they _couldn't_ work together every other day of the year, but his musings were always short lived once the festivities began. Limitless sweets and succulent dishes had a way of derailing that particular train of thought with frightening efficiency.

And it was glorious! The amount of food set out for them to enjoy bordered on excessive, but Abel always gorged himself on everything that was offered. It was the one day of the year he never had to worry about being hungry. And the best part was that when the revelry was over, there were still goodies to be had. The remaining spoils were divided, and both organizations had leftovers to sustain them for at least a week! The thought of all the rich, delicious treats always brought a smile to Abel's face. Yes, Christmas, to him, meant a full belly and a full spirit, and he loved every second of it.

Abel couldn't wait for it to be Christmas Day. He had his best cassock stowed carefully away in his room in Rome - the one that wasn't excessively threadbare and patched - which he would wear to Alessandro's mass in the morning, and once it was over, the _true_ celebration would begin. He licked his lips, and he swore he could already taste the turkey, all glistening and buttery and just waiting for a healthy covering of gravy. This year, he vowed he would get his hands on one of the legs. Last year, he'd had to fight off both Father Leon and Brother Petro for one of the two coveted drumsticks, and had wound up with a thigh and a wing instead. He was just glad that Father Tres didn't really eat. With his mechanical precision and near-flawless strategizing, he wouldn't stand a chance at all if a third brute were added to the mix! He did, however, wonder if Tres could be persuaded to _assist_ him in attaining his goal. He was sure that both Dandelion and Petro would be 'zero point three six seconds too slow' were they to face off against Gunslinger. He smiled. Definitely food for thought, and he would bring it up with his friend when he saw him next.

And while Abel's belly gave a quiet rumble at the thought of all the rich roasted meats and accompanying side dishes and sauces, it was the memories of the sinfully decadent desserts that really set his mouth to watering. Never in his life had he seen so many pies and pastries in one place as he did at Christmas, and one of his favourite things had been the 'top hats' - delicate mounds of marshmallow crème piled high on a thin chocolate wafer and then enrobed in a thick coating of dark chocolate. He couldn't recall the circumstances that had led to it, but he remembered fondly that he and Brother Phillipo had gotten into a modified 'chubby bunny' competition last year with them. They had been evenly matched. Both had eaten about a dozen or so of the marshmallow confections and were nowhere near their limit when Cardinal Francesco had interceded and put a stop to it. 

Francesco had admonished Phillipo for not behaving like an Inquisitor and berated him for lowering himself to 'common AX behaviour'. He had then gone on to remind him and Abel both that gluttony was a cardinal sin and frowned upon in the eyes of the church. Abel had found that statement, above all others, to be incredibly ironic, and not just because of Francesco's title. The cardinal had really had little room to be lecturing them about excess considering his own plate had been laden with several slices of rum-soaked fruitcake sent from their allies in Germanicus, and wedges of aged cheddar imported from Albion - not to mention, more pieces of chocolate than Abel could discreetly count.

As Francesco had walked away, Abel had distinctly heard Phillipo mutter under his breath, "Uptight douche." A small smirk crept across Abel's face at the memory, and he realized he was looking forward to seeing Phillipo again, and perhaps even having a rematch of sorts with him. In his mind, he saw nothing wrong with a little friendly competition between the two organizations. He believed it was certainly better than fighting to the near-death over a difference of opinion! Yes, Abel was certainly looking forward to getting home, and he was very glad he was finally on the last leg of his journey. He just wished that Sister Kate had come for him in the _Iron Maiden_ rather than having to rely on public transportation to get there. For one thing, it was infinitely slower, and if Kate had retrieved him, he could have been enjoying a cup of one of her wonderful tea blends right about now.

"May I help you, Father?"

Abel gave the girl behind the luncheonette counter a winsome smile, only to blush darkly in embarrassment when his stomach gave a ferocious growl and a few patrons glanced over when they heard the noise. "I'm terribly sorry about that," he mumbled awkwardly as he pressed his fingers into his gut in an attempt to muffle the sound. Nudging his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he peered at the offerings on the menu board, pressing harder when the thought of food made his belly sound off again. He cleared his throat, and then smiled. "Hot tea please. Twelve sugars."

The girl nodded and reached for a cup, only to pause a moment later. "I'm sorry, Father. Did you say _twelve_?"

Abel laughed softly, trying to sound casual but coming across as awkward instead. "Yes, my dear. Twelve, if you please."

She stared at him for several seconds, and then smiled. "Okay. That will be four dinars, please."

"F-four dinars?" Abel blanched, and with a weak smile he pulled the worn coin purse from the pocket of his cloak. He peered inside, and then he sighed. "What would you give me for two?"

As he sat down at a table with a glass of water and a slice of bread, he found himself wishing for the ship to go faster. It was going to be a long two days to Rome.


End file.
